


Invisible Wounds

by agaytoremembr



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: I NEEDED THIS, and the image of him with a kitten made me happier, because five's past makes me sad, five has hella ptsd, he has a therapy kitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 18:43:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18722779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agaytoremembr/pseuds/agaytoremembr
Summary: The first time he started screaming in the middle of the night, Five awoke to an audience. All of his siblings were crowded in his bedroom, staring at him with stupid, wide, empathetic eyes. Five hated it. And he told them that. Loudly. Explicitly.They didn't come back after that.





	Invisible Wounds

Five knew what was happening, _logically_. He wasn’t stupid, he knew what PTSD was, he understood the human mind better than any of his siblings, and certainly more than that naive shrink they tried to force him to see. He _knew_ that his brain had been protecting him from the worst of his symptoms until it decided it was safe to unleash them; that didn’t mean Five tolerated it. He prided himself on being a fairly rational, logical individual, but this…. _disease_ , put his emotions in control, and they were consuming him.

 

The first time he started screaming in the middle of the night, Five awoke to an audience. All of his siblings were crowded in his bedroom, staring at him with stupid, wide, _empathetic_ eyes. Five hated it. And he told them that. Loudly. Explicitly.

 

Looking back, he supposed he could have been a bit less harsh, but it worked: they left him alone during the screaming spells.

 

Five could never have told them the real reason they weren’t allowed near him after nightmares and panic attacks; they were too soft, too emotional. It would become about their _feelings_ , rather than the logical choice that it was.

 

Worse, they would want him to _talk_ about it.

 

So what, if every time he looked at their faces, he saw them dead amongst rubble and it made his throat close up? So what, if Vanya trying to kill them played on a loop every time he spotted her, or heard her voice, or a violin in general? _So what_ , if he avoided them all like he hated them, because his siblings were the triggers for his worst panic attacks?

 

He didn’t hate them, though. He was very clear on that. He wanted to, _god_ , did he want to. It would be infinitely easier if he could not care, if he could despise them. But he couldn’t.

 

So he avoided them. It was for their own good. He was too fucked up, he would ruin whatever it was that he tried to touch, and he needed to keep them safe. At heart, all Five would ever be was a killer, and while that helped during the apocalypse, Five knew h _e_ would never be accepted. He was at peace with it. So why bring up all those _feelings_ , by trying?

 

-

 

He’d had another nightmare. Woken up to sweat-soaked pajamas, but thankfully no screaming. He quietly crept out into the hall, sneaking into the bathroom to change his clothes and deposit the old ones in the hamper- Grace was rather insistent about dirty clothes going in their proper place. Five was just glad that no one was up and about.

 

He eyed his cracked bedroom door suspiciously, but thankfully, there was no one inside. He must have left it open in his hurry to shed the clothes and the last remainder of the dream.

 

Five sat down on his bed, only to hear a particularly indignant ‘ _mrrrow!_ ’. He jumped back, yanking the blankets up to reveal a tiny, multicolored cat, curled up against his pillow. Five scowled; it was undoubtedly one of the strays that Klaus has been bringing home. They had left Klaus alone about that particular habit, because it made him happy and it didn’t directly bother anyone else, but Five was going to have to interfere. It might make Klaus happy, but Five refused to just accept _vermin_ crawling into his bed.

 

There had been cats left in the apocalypse. Starving, skinny things that attacked when they were hungry enough, mewled pathetically when they were too weak to be on the offense. The cats from the apocalypse had reminded him of rats, but this little scrap of fur didn’t really resemble either. It was almost… _cute_.

 

Five scowled. He reached forward to pick the cat up, but was stopped short. The little thing looked like it was _glaring_ at him, as though it blamed him for interrupting it’s nap. Well, that just wouldn’t do.

 

He went to scoop it up, to dispose of it in Klaus’ bedroom, but the little thing hissed and swiped at his hand. Five stared, a little dumbfounded, at the three angry red scratches on his wrist, grudging admiration welling up inside of him. He could respect something that fought for what it wanted; after all, wasn’t that what he himself had done for decades during the apocalypse and his time with the commission?

 

Plus, Five reasoned, it was the middle of the night. Klaus would be asleep, and waking him up to give back the cat was a hassle that Five was, frankly, too tired for.

 

“You can stay the night,” Five told the little beast grudgingly, moving the pillow it had claimed to the other side of the bed so he could lie down. “But don’t get used to it. You’re going back to Klaus in the morning.”

 

The cat, having seemingly achieved its goal, settled against the pillow.

 

Five closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, when he felt a slight pressure, a warmth, against his side. He cracked his eyelids open, spying the cat snuggled up next to his hip, nearly burrowed underneath him. Five scowled; if the cat came to any harm during the night, Klaus would throw a fit. He scooped the cat up and dropped it back on the pillow.

 

“Stay,” he ordered firmly, tugging the blankets up and closing his eyes again. His eyes were getting heavy, and all he wanted was to lose himself in a dreamless sleep.

 

“Really?” Five snapped, his eyes popping open when he felt a tiny weight in his chest. The cat had jumped on top of him, and was now making itself very at home. “This isn’t a sleepover!”

 

He went to move the cat once again, but the moment his hand made contact with it’s silky fur, the little bundle started _vibrating_ . Really, truly vibrating, a weird little buzzing that sounded unnatural but content. Hesitantly, Five ran his fingers down the cat’s back, then briefly fingered the downy soft ears. The vibrating intensified. _Purring_ , he thought, dazed. The cat was  _purring_.

 

“Well,” Five muttered, his brows drawing together as he pet the little thing, “I _guess_ you can sleep here. Just don’t die overnight, or Klaus will get all upset.”

 

The cat blinked, but otherwise ignored him. Five took that to mean an agreement to his terms.

 

He thought falling asleep would be harder with the distraction, but he had never drifted off faster.

 

-

 

The _plan_ had been to march downstairs the next morning and hand the scrap of fluff back to Klaus, possibly snap something about keeping his strays out of Five’s bedroom.

 

That had been the plan.

 

What actually happened wasn’t quite what Five had pictured.

 

He got down the stairs, the kitten curled up on his chest, a rather possessive paw clawing into the lapel of his blazer, when Klaus spotted him. “Fivey!” His brother cried, beaming. “You found Mr. Pawsy Pawsborne!”

 

Five’s eyes narrowed and he looked from Klaus to the cat in question. Surely Klaus couldn’t look at this ferocious little beast that had earned Five’s respect and call it…. _That_.

 

Actually, upon thinking about it for even just a split second, Klaus would _absolutely_ do that. So Five had no choice, really. Saving the cat from his brother’s attentions was practically a service. He batted Klaus’ hands away, scowling. “It’s name is _Cat_ ,” he snapped, one hand holding the kitten against his chest more firmly, while the other shoved Klaus away. “And it’s _mine_.”

 

-

 

Owning a cat was a curious experience. Five had never had a pet before. If that’s what the little feline _was_. He kept it safe from Klaus and his horrific naming skills, but that was all he had really planned to do.

 

He certainly hadn’t expected the kitten to follow him everywhere he went.

 

“Go away.”

 

The kitten stared at him, turning it’s little head. It was a bad day for Five; he couldn’t manage to get out of bed. A bolt on his door was enough to keep out his nosy siblings, but he hadn’t accounted for the cat.

 

Instead of going to the perfectly functional cat bed on the floor, the kitten jumped on top of Five’s mattress, casually padding over to curl up against Five’s side.

 

Usually, when Five was having his bad days, he flinched away from touch. It was one of the main reasons he had gotten a deadbolt for his door, so on days like that, he wouldn’t have to endure his siblings’ annoying concern that inevitably made everything worse.

 

He had assumed it would be the same for the cat, but he found he didn’t want to move away from the warm, purring ball of fluff at his side. It felt… almost _nice_.

 

Strange emotion clogged Five’s throat, and he ran his fingers through the cat’s fur. “Fine,” he muttered, finally, blinking furiously to stall the traitorous wetness in his eyes. “Fine. You can stay, Cat.”

 

-

 

From that day on, it became a natural sight, to see a cat following behind Five, wherever he went. The cat was never far from Five’s side, and lavished attention on his master, but if anyone else tried to touch him, he was not shy with hisses and claws. Klaus liked to joke that Cat was the Five of felines.

  
Klaus also ended that day with a rather deep scratch on his calf. Five saw no correlation.

 

-

 

Five had come downstairs for a snack, braving the chance of his siblings’ presence because both he and Cat were hungry. Cat followed dutifully behind him, slithering between his legs when he was too slow. Cat abandoned him for the chance to jump on the sofa, while Five prepared a sandwich, but he wasn’t offended. Cat _loved_ Grace’s nice sofa. That was… probably why Diego hated Cat so much, come to think of it. Oh well. Diego was always touchy when it came to Grace.

 

One of his siblings must have been in the front room, because Five heard a distinct hiss and a feminine cry of pain. _Allison_. Vanya always respected Cat’s space, and out of gratitude, Cat would occasionally reward her by sitting in her lap. Allison knew no such boundaries, and as such got bitten and scratched every time she tried.

 

Sure enough, Allison stalked into the kitchen, cradling her hand and glowering, just as Five had gotten all his sandwich supplies ready. Cat trotted in after her, not taking his eyes off of Allison as he wound himself between Five’s legs.

 

Allison held her hand under the faucet, scowling at Five. “That little menace scratched me!”

 

Five glanced down at Cat, the picture of innocence lying at his feet. “I’m assuming you tried to pet him?”

 

“Of course I tried to pet him! He’s a cat!” Allison huffed, drying her hands on a dish towel. “He should _like_ being pet.”

 

“He does.” Five spread peanut butter on a few slices of bread. He stole a glance at Allison and smirked. “By me.”

 

Allison rolled her eyes, strolling toward him and clearly ignoring Cat’s warning hiss. She ruffled Five’s hair, despite _knowing_ that he hated it, and stole a slice of bread and peanut butter. “He’s a _monster_ ,” she said darkly, pressing a kiss to Five’s forehead and grinning. “Just like you.”

 

Normally, Five would have tried to wipe off the kiss, or yell after Allison as she left the kitchen, or even jump to where she was walking and steal back his bread, but he did none of these.

 

 _Monster_.

 

He stood stock still, his heart pounding against his thin chest like it wanted out, and his skin turned cold and clammy.

 

 _Monster_.

 

He tried breathing, tried remembering _how_ , but it wasn’t working. The butter knife slipped from his numb fingers, clattering to the floor. Diego would be pissed about that later, he thought, a little hysterically, desperately searching for breath.

 

Cat watched him speculatively, _calmly_ , and that gave Five the clarity to grab the cat and jump to his bedroom. It was dangerous to do jumps when he was in the middle of panic attacks, but he refused to go through another one in a public space.

 

He all but fell onto his bed, Cat settling on his stomach.

 

 _Monster_.

 

The word kept repeating over and over in Five’s mind. He watched Cat as he kneaded his chest.

 

 _Monster_.

 

If Cat was a monster, for _existing_ , for not liking it when people touched him, for killing the odd mouse or two, _then what was Five_? She had used Five’s most loathed self-descriptor so _casually_ . What would Allison call _him_ , if she knew everything?

 

 _Monster_.

 

The handler’s voice whispered in the back of his head, like a poisonous gas being released, and it sent shivers down his spine. _You know what she would call you_ , that sugary sweet voice whispered, and Five shook his head violently.

 

No. His siblings wouldn’t turn their backs on him, they _wouldn’t_. Not after everything.

 

 _They don’t know you like I do, Number Five_ , that voice whispered, amused, like his pain was something she enjoyed. It probably was. _If they knew the_ real _you, they would run. They will never accept you_.

 

Five rolled over, burying his face into his pillow and screaming. _No. NO._ His emotions were threatening to drown him, choking off his airways, making him feel _ugly_.

 

A press of a paw to his shoulder, a hint of claws, had Five lifting his tear-streaked face. Cat watched him passively. Five never thought about it before, but as he watched Cat, he realized he was ugly.

 

Five felt ugly, but Cat _was_ ugly.

 

Cat was ugly, and Five _liked_ that about him. With his squashed-in face, mismatched eyes, and fur that was randomly fluffy and flat, Cat was never going to win any beauty contests. Five appreciated that about him. He preferred Cat’s ugliness, because it matched his own.

 

Objectively, Five could admit his child body was attractive, but it wasn’t right. It didn’t fit like his old one had. He secretly longed for the disfiguration of his old body, the repulsivity of old age. He preferred his body to match the monster he was inside, and his pretty young face made a mockery of him any time he looked in a mirror.

 

Sometimes he could still feel the handler’s hands on him, just like those nights in her office, that still felt like yesterday. Her sharp nails trailing down the length of his jaw, deadly enough to slit his throat if she so wished it. He had been older then, but her touch had still made him feel sick. With her hands on him, he felt like the monster she told him he was.

 

He could feel himself slipping into the memory, and he hated it.

 

_She invited him to these little meetings under the premise of checking to see how he was doing with the commission, but he wasn’t naive._

 

 _They both knew that Five would do whatever it took to get back to his family, to stop the coming apocalypse. The handler was just doing her job, and making sure her newest asset did_ his _. The meetings were always the same: her hands on his body, unwanted and repulsive, while she smiled that shark’s grin, telling him exactly why she thought he was a perfect fit there. “You fit in here quite well, Number Five,” she would almost purr, one hand clamped on his shoulder while she looked him up and down. He hated how it felt when she had her hungry eyes on him. “_ So well _. It’s a good thing I found you before you could find out how to get back. What would your family think of you, after all these years?” That tinkling laugh still haunted Five. “They didn’t see you during the apocalypse, but we did. We kept a close, close eye on you. We knew you were just like us, destined to be one of us.” A flash of poisonous teeth. “Your family never would have understood those, ah,_ impulses _.”_

 

_“What could you tell them about yourself, about where you’ve been? Could you tell them about the apocalypse? About finding their broken bodies?”_

 

 _Five opened his mouth to respond, but the handler smiled, in that way that made his gut churn. “You could,” she supposed sweetly, “but would they believe you? Could you_ really _confide in them, about eating rats and bugs just to survive? Or,” her eyes flashed dangerously, “your precious Delores? What_ would _they make of her, I wonder.”_

 

_“Keep her name out of your mouth!” Five growled, unable to keep his fury at bay, not when the handler was so casually dropping the name of the love he’d had to leave behind._

 

 _The handler laughed. Her expression was triumphant and cold. “Your family would_ never _understand. To us, you’re a survivor. To them?” She laughed again, without humor. “Poor old Five, they’d say. Time travel made him insane.” Her smile flashed darkly, a throaty chuckle escaping. “And if they ever found out about your work here? They’d call you dangerous. A_ monster _.” She clucked her tongue and smiled at him, a rare quirk of the lips that had no edge to it at all. The sympathy in her eyes looked so real, Five could almost believe it. Almost. “Better that you’re here with us._ We _understand you.”_

 

She was a master manipulator, Five could give her that. But then, one couldn’t become the leader of an organization such as the commission without having a few tricks up their sleeves.

 

Five knew she had been manipulating him the whole time, _knew it when it was happening_ , but knowing something and being able to resist it were two separate things. Even now, he knew she was right. His family could never love something as ugly as him. He had come back anyway, because saving them was more important than their love.

 

The sharp sting of Cat’s teeth on his wrist pulled him out of the memory, and Five inhaled sharply. He wound his fingers in Cat’s fur, shuddering out what sounded like a sob. The cat tolerated the attention, his body vibrating with a loud purr. Five tried to remember his original point. Cat meowed loudly, nearly a shriek for attention, and he remembered.

 

Cat was ugly. Five appreciated Cat’s ugliness, and loved him all the more for it. It gave him a tentative kind of _hope_ , loathe as he was to admit it, that maybe, someday, he too could be loved in spite of the ugliness inside of him.

 

-

  
Having Cat around didn’t make being around his siblings _better_ , but it did make it easier. Cat always placed itself in Five’s lap, kneading his thighs or belly calmly. It was harder to slip into the memories with a ten pound weight on him, nearly vibrating with the force of it’s purring, or with the sharp claws that cut through the thin material of his pants and shirt. Five was covered in tiny pinpricks from Cat’s claws, but he didn’t mind. The cat was the only thing that helped ground him in reality.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm kinda nervous about posting this one gotta be honest
> 
> comments make my life better, tell me what you thought? <3


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